Bubonic
by TheAngryItalian
Summary: Matthew has always been there for Alfred. After every battle, during the yellow fever outbreak; Alfred was never alone for long. But when Alfred caught a plague that wiped out most of Europe once, Matthew is all but helpless. When all is lost, and hope is gone, Alfred's life rests in his family's hands. ((I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own any of its characters))
1. An Epidemic

For in what seemed like ages, there was peace at the world meeting. Ludwig hadn't raised his voice, Francis hadn't flirted with many of the women present, Arthur hadn't sworn much, and Alfred- for the most part- was quiet.

Alfred only acted like this when something happened, something he believed he was unable to fend off. Matthew knew that better than most. When he broke out in yellow fever as a child, Matthew was there to help. With every lost battle in every war, Matthew was there. He only seemed to be seen when it was beneficial to Alfred.

Right now, something was off. Alfred posture was slouched, his skin a few shades paler, and part of the brightness in his eyes was gone. His hair was standing without its usual discipline, but his cowlick was drooping ever so slightly. Even his bomber jacket- the most iconic thing about him- was torn at someplace. "So, like I was saying," he yawned, "we should probably- I... I've got to sit down." He took a seat next to Matthew. He yawned again, he couldn't have gotten a wink of sleep. "Artie, could you take over?"

"Well, yes, but what's wrong with you?" The boy who tried to lead, the so-called hero, was the one to try to direct the meetings. He's never passed up that chance. "Maybe you should go, you don't seem like yourself."

Clutching his arm, which, Matthew noticed, was something he rarely did, Alfred replied, "Artie, dude, I'm fine. Don't worry, you already do that enough."

Matthew leaned over. "Alfred, are you sure you're okay? You don't think there's been a shooting, do you?"

Alfred, in turn, leaned over so the others could not hear. "No, its something different. Its an outbreak, I doubt its bad. I can handle it."

"Are you sure? I could always-"

"I'm fine. Promise."

"Alright."

Throughout the day, Alfred only got worse. He clutched his arm more, he was close to fainting at times even. Finally the nations could leave. Alfred stayed behind. "Matt, I don't think I can make it back to my place n my own."

"I'll take you, just like when we were kids." He smiled faintly. "Maybe you should stay home for a while, at least until everything clears up."

"Matt, you know me." He chuckled. "That's not happening." He winced, and his hand shot straight for his arm.

"I told you, I'm fine." He put his arm at his side, but cringed at the pain it had caused. "You don't need to-"

"Alfred. Take it off." Matthew had a look in his eyes that few nations could muster when it was needed. Not a look of intimidation, but a look that told you to trust him. It was a look that made you comply. It was both demanding and compassionate. So, the jacket was taken off.

Matthew's previous look was replaced by pure horror. "Arthur!" He yelled, louder than he ever had. The skin was not only sore, rough, and agitated- there were multitudes of red, sweltering cysts forming.

He came running t the sudden outburst. Even from a distance, he could see what Alfred arm had turned into. His heart beat faster. No, he thought to himself, it was gone. It was all gone, it even took me with it once. It... It can't be back. Not now.

The Canadian could see the shock in Arthur's eyes. "You've been around longer, and you've seen things like this. Do you know what-"

"T-The Black Death. So many people dead... Alfred..." He could barely speak. The European nation couldn't let this happen, once in history was enough. "The plague... Please, not again. Not the Bubonic plague again..."


	2. The Worry

"The Black Death? Wasn't that when you caught something off of the Silk Road?" Alfred cringed as Arthur inspected his arm more. "You did recover, and your population, but didn't it, well..."

"It did, and I don't want you to die because of it it either." He stood up and collected himself. That death wasn't one he wished to remember. "I haven't seen this in centuries. How could you have it now?"

"Arthur, if its the bubonic plague, it should have come from a bite." Matthew looked closer at the infected arm. "Alfred, which of your states has been getting sick lately?"

"Mainly Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire, why? How does that matter?"

"Alfred, it matters because you're a nation." When Arthur got it so long ago, he didn't get it in a usual spot for it to begin, but the part of his body relative to the part of his country. "It starts usually in your armpit or neck, not on your arm."

"Wait, so I'll need to contain them? What if it spreads to the rest of my arm?"

"I... I don't know. Its already serious, but this plague spreads with fleas. Fleas usually travel on rats, Alfred."

"Rats... The cities. New York is..."

"Alfred, its... Its doomed. The subways will be contaminated, the streets and alleys taken." If it was in America, that would mean it would spread to Canada. Matthew would be in the same position. It would spread over North America, then South America, and maybe even Europe if the wrong person travels.

Arthur laid his hand on Alfred's unaffected arm, but shot back a moment later. His breathing speed up, his heart beating just a bit faster than before. Soon Arthur's hand was on Alfred's forehead, and the story was the same. "Alfred, you're burning up."

"Get me out of here. I can't get anyone else sick like this."

The three were at America's house, with Arthur on a call with Francis. "Please Francis, he needs his family with him now." _I need you with me_ , he thought to himself, _I need my family with me through this._

Francis could hear his voice cracking. He remembered being at Arthur's side when he finally gave up. He was in so much pain that day, and he had to live it again when he died. "Arthur, it is going to take me some time. I cannot get to America from France as fast as I need to."

"Please, just hurry."

"I will. I always do."

Francis hung up, leaving Arthur alone. Not alone in a literal sense, but it was a feeling of being helpless. _We may argue, but I really am stronger with him. I hope he comes soon..._

"Arthur, its spreading. I can feel it. Someone in New York has it." New York had to have been one of his favorite states. Maybe it was the lights of Manhattan, the bit of peace in Brooklyn; its been there since the original thirteen- it couldn't go down now. "Everything's going so fast, my entire arm is almost covered."

"I know, I know. Its going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

"Artie, when you had it, were you scared?"

"Well..." What was he supposed to say? Lie and try to make him believe everything would be fine? Tell the truth to comfort, or maybe worry, him? "Yes, I was. When I first got it I was expecting to heal in just a few days, but I was more wrong than ever. It only got worse- I couldn't think for most of the time because of the pains in my head, I was cold one moment and hot the next. I was dying from the outside in; my skin was deteriorating by my hands and feet. I could barely walk, I was too weak. When I died, it was almost-"

Tears were coming to his eyes. Not Alfred's, or Matthew's, but Arthur's. "I.. I'll be back in a moment." He left the room and closed the door, he could not be heard. Trying to choke back sobs, he spoke to no one in particular. "I can't do this. I just _can't_. I don't want to relive this." He took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and walked back in.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I'd just like to say that thanks for the reviews (and only after only one day of this story being up, just wow) and they always help! To be honest, this chapter did not go as I planned it. At all. I'm probably going to change the story arch now, but if you do have any ideas, please review and tell me! I'll read them all, and they do inspire me to keep writing.**


	3. A Lost Ally

"Sorry about that, I needed a moment." _I shouldn't explain things like that_ , he thought to himself, _I'd like to keep both of us sane for the most part._

Alfred sat up, only to have Matthew push him back down again. "Alright Matthew, I get it." He looked up at Arthur. "Artie, are you sure you can do this?"

Arthur knelt by his side. "Of course I can." He chuckled. "Even the hero needs a bit of protection sometimes." The doorbell rang. "I'll get it, be back-"

"Stay, I'll be right back." He went to the door. He opened it to see the 'F' in the face family, Francis.

"Is he alright? Is he any better? Mattieu, is he still here?"

"Papa, he's still here, but he's getting worse." He gestured to the room at the end of the hall. "He in there with Arthur. I... I should get back inside."

Francis put his hand of Matthew's shoulder. "Take a minute. You are not used to this kind of stress on yourself."

"I'll be fine, I always-" His phone rang. "Its my boss, the prime minister. Sorry, I- I just need to take this." Francis nodded, and Matthew left him.

"Justin- I mean, Mr.. Trudeau?"

"Canada, we're going to be blocking off America because of the plague that's spreading, I hope there's no hard feelings."

 _When will he learn to just say Matthew? It isn't that difficult, right?_ "Sir, I'm... still in America."

"Did you catch it? No, I can't take that chance." He sighed. "Canada, you'll be there until this passes."

"But, sir-"

"I can't have you bringing this plague into our country! My word is final; you will stay."

"Yes... Yes sir. Au revoir." Matthew hung up on the man. _Aren't Canadians supposed to be polite or something? Man, was I wrong._

Matthew walked into the room to find Alfred asleep with the other two nations in eachother's arms. Francis had tears stained on his cheeks. "I'm not... Interrupting something, am I?"

"N-No, of course not." _We're the oldest ones here_ , Arthur thought to himself, _we need to be strong when they can't._

"Francis, do you remember Justin?"

"Oui, but there are two famous Justins from your country: Bieber and Trudeau."

"Trudeau, not Bieber." Arthur sighed in relief. "Oh please, he's not all that bad." Arthur rolled his eyes and faintly smiled. If he was trying to break the ice between them, it worked. "Well, he... We're isolating ourselves from America, but he demanded I stay so I can't spread the plague."

"Matthieu, you wouldn't catch it unless-"

"Unless someone from your own country had it. And, by the looks of it, no one does."

"I tried to tell him that, Arthur. He wouldn't listen."

Alfred had to have woken up just a few moments ago. He turned to face the men from where he laid. "How long... How long until I'm alone in this?

Matthew knelt by his side. "By the way things are now, I'll be here for a while."

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 **I know its a short chapter, but it is important! Alfred, along with the country he represents, will no longer get any Canadian aid (except for Matthew's help, of course). I'm still considering including a flashback or two... maybe, maybe not. Anyways, keep reading and posting reviews, and I'll keep writing! I mean, I'll keep writing anyways... but its a nice thought.**


	4. Nightmares

_Pain. That was all Arthur felt. Just pain._

 _"Francis, I know you don't want me to... But... I won't last much longer."_

 _He's been sick for so long, he can't give up now! "Non, non... Angleterre, non..."_

 _Arthur smiled. "I told you, I don't speak French."_

 _Francis smiled back, tears coming to his eyes. "You will learn, mon cher." Francis watched as his eyes closed for the last time. "Je t'aime..."_

Francis woke up. Beads of sweat were rolling down his face. "Non... pas encore..."

"Papa? Why are you up so early?" Matthew rose from his position next to Alfred to sit next to the man. "Tout va bien?"

"Oui, it is just that... I remember it. Matthieu, I remember it all."

Matthew laid against Francis's chest. "I know, Francis. I know."

"Are the others still asleep?"

"They are, but you should get some more. You traveled a long way to get here, I'm sure you need it."

"Haven't you been up all night watching him?"

"Yes, but I'm used to it." He smiled. "Aller dormir, je vais bien."

Francis smiled back. He drifted off into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

"Speaking French really does calm him down. Pity I'll never be able to." Arthur had woken up the same time as Francis, but stayed in bed when he heard Matthew comfort him. He's always been easy to talk to.

"Arthur, I- What do you mean?"

"Soon the rest of him will be infected, can't you see? We've been on a timer." The plague had spread to most of Alfred's chest, part of his torso as well. "Don't you know how many states have been infected? There's only one that I doubt will go down, but he'll lose so much of his population."

"You mean Hawaii?" Arthur nodded. "But compared to California and Texas, it won't mean much."

"Matthew, when it reaches California, it'll be too late for anything."

"So lets make sure it doesn't."

 _"Arthur, I trusted you!"_

 _"I told you, it was for your own good!"_

 _"For my own good? We're standing on opposite sides of the battle field while I'm fighting for my freedom. You might want to rethink that." He leveled his gun while General Washington gave the word of attack. With his troops behid him, Alfred shot._

 _Every day he saw more and more people moving West. Every day he saw more land being taken from Native Americans- Indians or copper-skins, as people called them. Soon, to rid of them completely, so many of the buffalo were killed; their skulls were placed into a heap that reeked of death. While walking to his home, he saw the body of a child. A child who's name he would never know, a child of a Native American._

 _For a time, Alfred had been split in half. There was another personification in his place, wishing to be called The Confederacy. "I told you, we can't be a slave nation!"_

 _"Alfred, all men are created equal. Not women, not children. Why should blacks be treated any different than them?"_

 _"I've had the upper hand throughout the entire war." He charged. "Time to finish this."_

 _Alfred looked at his watch. "Its still early, I don't need to get to the meeting just yet." He looked up to see a plane flying overhead and smiled. He saw the twin towers standing higher than anything the eye could see. The plane crashed, the building was coming down before him. "No... No!" He ran towards it. So many innocent people dead or dying... Why? The second plane hit. So many people he knew dead. Gone forever. He moved the rubble in his extraordinary strength only to see that he was too late._

Alfred jolted up, but regretted it as it only caused him more pain. He sighed. "It was... It was only a dream... Oh God..."

"Well, at least you were able to sleep through the night. Francis and I didn't sleep that well, and Matthew didn't sleep at all."

"Did I miss much?"

"No, nothing really."

Francis moved to Alfred's side. "It was a nightmare that woke you, no?"

"It was." He took a deep breath to try to calm himself. "I relived so many things I never wanted to happen again. The revolutionary war, the Indian Removal act, the Civil War, and 9/11... How did that happen?"

"You are in pain, Amérique. You were in pain then, too." Francis looked into the boy's eyes and gave him a soft smile. "You are not the only one with nightmares."

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Non, non... Angleterre, non... - No, no... England, no...**

 **Mon cher- My dear**

 **Je t'aime- I love you**

 **Non... pas encore... - No... not again**

 **Tout va bien? - Are you okay?**

 **Oui- Yes**

 **Aller dormir, je vais bien- Go to sleep, I'm fine.**

 **Amérique- America**

 **Another chapter done! I understand if all the French got in the way a bit to some of you, but I might as well use it. It does make sense, to me at least, that Francis reverts to his original language when scared, nervous, oraround another French speaker such as Matthew. Anyways... I hope you liked this chapter, with all of its dream sequence flashbacks, and there'll be more to come!**


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